A difference

Waiting at the airport helped me reflect on whom to vote for during the May 13 midterm elections. Thanks to a persevering son and an online airfare promo, I lined up for a quick trip to Cebu. The lines for the airport counters existed in theory; Ramadan, election day and school break meant passengers churning like vortexes rather than filing orderly and efficiently.

Since I was hours early for a trip that was likely to be delayed (it was), I took in the scene. A lady and her grown-up daughter queued behind me; mother and daughter, noting the lack of system, filled in the gap, sharing information and politely directing folks to the end of the line before they could cut into the queue and create a situation.

I heard the daughter ask her elderly mother to take a seat many times when it seemed no one was inching forward; each time, the lady said that they will both take a seat after finishing their business at the counters.

This tandem was more helpful to fellow passengers than an officious gentleman walking around, wearing his authority like a uniform and not offering anything else to anyone. After a time, we formed a respectable line without a sour face in sight.

Lined up before me was a group of women wearing the khimar, or head scarf. They had many belongings to check in; a young woman juggled these tasks while assisting her elderly companion to a wheelchair provided by the airline. Unlike with the tandem behind me, I could not overhear their conversation and only assumed they were related, a possible mother-and-daughter team, too.

Later, in the pre-departure area, the travelers in their bright khimars stood out. The young woman and her mother went to the toilet twice; each time, she slung a backpack and placed a small bag on her mother’s lap before they wheeled away to a toilet that is challenging to maneuver, given its cramped space and heavy use (with just a heavy gadget bag and a sling, I found it so).

It wasn’t the wheelchair that stood out but the young woman’s manner of bending down to her mother and smiling, as if sharing the thrill of embarking on an adventure. Decades ago, their roles must have been reversed, the older one being wheeled around then whispering to and encouraging the younger one held in her arms or toddling beside her. It was a privilege to watch these two come full circle.

Zen Buddhist monk Thich Nhat Hanh, explaining to Martin Luther King the self-immolation of monks protesting the Vietnam War, said that this act of making one’s voice heard to save one’s country was borne out of compassion, not of despair.

Tomorrow, may we vote according to deep and abiding love for our nation, not out of despair.